The Bad Beamup
by wormbuffet
Summary: Spock's atoms are misplaced during beam-up and Kirk is determined to find his diary before he gets back. The Enterprise is a silly place.
1. Chapter 1

STAR TREK BELONGS TO THE OWNERS OF STAR TREK. IM NOT PROFITING IN ANY WAY. I ALSO PROMISE THERE ARE NO MARY-SUES IN THIS FIC.

* * *

"Scotty! Have you figured out what the devil is keeping my new iPod from working?" Kirk shouted into his little space-radio.

"Not yet, Captain. We can't find anything technically wrong with it, Sir,"

"Well, keep checking. There better be a good reason why my Kenny Chesney CD sounds muffled," Kirk ordered, glaring accusingly at the communicator in his palm. "And while you're at it, try and find out why Spock's is working fine."

"Yes, Sir. Scott out."

Kirk flipped his communicator shut and stowed it in his belt. He decided to examine to local flora and fauna. And by examine the local flora and fauna, he meant water the lilies. And by water the lilies he meant go wee. Captain Kirk strode purposefully a few steps forward, just for the heck of it, and then commenced to weeing.

"Heh heh heh, I'm Captain Kirk. Take that, little buggie on the ground. Who's overweight and a sexual predator now?" he chuckled good-naturedly, watering the lilies. He wished there were actual lilies on this planet, so it would be more satisfying. Somehow, without lilies it was just empty. Like Spock's soul. He shivered, and then jumped when his communicator began to chirp again.

"Kirk here," he half-screamed, still haunted by an image of Spock watching him watering the lilies.

"It's McCoy. Me and Scotty think we've got your whole ear-bud problem worked out."

"Bones! Really? That quickly?"

"Yep. It was a whole lot simpler than we thought. First we re-wired all the ship's systems except for life support and impulse-power to the microwave. Then we took apart and reassembled the bud three times. We tested it in Romulan, then Klingon, then Spanish. Scotty even tried drinking it under the table. Just when we thought nothing would work and we'd have to buy a new one, Spock came in and wanted to know what the yellow stuff all over it was."

"Well, that's wonderful!"

"Yes, it is. Your problem is earwax."

Kirk stood there a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Earwax? What the devil? Did it need earwax to function, as a sort of organic energy source like...coal? Or cats? Kirk tried to think logically but the lilies were distracting him.

"Earwax!" he said to buy time.

"Yes, earwax was the whole problem."

"Earwax!" Kirk exclaimed, taken back. "Earwax! Hey, if you wanted earwax, why didn't you talk to Mr. Spock? I'm sure he's got a surplus!"

"Negative, Captain. Despite the prominence of my ears, it would be impossible find any such substance inside them." Spock said, stepping forwards with a smug look on his face. "I practice something you humans call 'hygiene.'"

Kirk glared.

"As do I, Spock. I'm just not anal about it."

"Anal, Captain?" the Vulcan retorted, raising an eyebrow. "I don't understand the relevance of the term."

"Nevermind." Kirk had just realized that he had watered the lilies in front of Spock. Damn him for being so quiet and unobtrusive. He wondered if it would be rude to make him wear some sort of clever notifying device, like a...bell. Or a cat. He shook his head frustratedly. Damn!

"Ignore what you just heard! Beam us up, Scotty. I'm getting sick of this landscape that looks suspiciously like southern California."

…_.._

_Moments later, in the Transporter room. _

Doctor McCoy and Lieutenant Scotty were waiting in the Transporter room when Kirk beamed aboard.

"Jim!" shouted McCoy.

"Bones!" answered Kirk joyfully.

"Captain!" slurred Scotty.

"Scotty!" he screamed back.

"..."

"...Spock?" Kirk looked behind him. "Hey, where's Spock? He's supposed to be here!"

"Wasn't he with you?" said McCoy.

"He _was,_" Kirk said hauntedly, remembering. "Scotty, didn't I say beam _us_ up? Did you miss him?"

"_I'm_ not going to miss him," said McCoy dryly.

"Quiet, you blue-eyed sarcastic man."

"I'm not sure, Captain. I could have sworn I'd locked in on you lads..." the Scotsman examined the controls, worried. He hoped he didn't have to drink it under the table again because his liver couldn't stand another Transporter malfunction. He still had a bellyache from the communicator issue. It was tough being the only Scottish engineer aboard the _Enterprise_.

"Well?" Kirk said impatiently. He wanted to go snoop around in Spock's cabin and read his diary.

"It seems that Mr. Spock's atoms were misplaced while he was beaming aboard, Sir!"

"...and?"

"Captain, he's lost in space, that means! We've lost Officer Spock!"

"Oh no!" Kirk shouted. "That's terrible! How long will he be gone?"

"Well...until you find him? He's not coming back on his own, Sir..."

"Ah. I'll go to his cabin to investigate for clues..."

"But-"

"No buts! There is no 'but' in TEAM! Can't means won't!" Kirk said encouragingly, swelling with bravado. It made a man feel good to have all the right answers. And he was indeed a man. With answers.


	2. Chapter 2

_MEANWHILE...(EARTH-DATE: JUNE 18TH, 2009.)_

Meanwhile, Spock materialized in a tree. He was very awkwardly jammed in the y-fork of the trunk. The situation was almost as illogical as it was uncomfortable, he noted, as he attempted to shift the pressure from his crotch to his feet by bracing them against a nearby branch. This movement caused the tree to sway sickeningly and some ants to fall on his head. He sighed and blew an ant off his bottom lip.

"Hey! Are you an alien?" someone called from below. He looked down. A human boy was riding towards him upon an unwieldy antique contraption once called a "bicycle" on Twentieth-century Earth. Any being, Spock decided, that chose to ride such a frivolous and useless machine was suffering a serious deficit of logic. He suspected that this was probably why humans found them so appealing.

"Hey, Alien? You okay?" the boy yelled up at him, skidding to stop at the base of the tree. He was wearing old-fashioned clothing that flapped in the breeze and hung off his vaguely sickly and unattractive frame. He looked like the kind of kid who got beaten up a lot.

"Fascinating," Spock mused, wondering how he knew he was an alien and how come he wasn't running away screaming. He picked up his tri-corder and attempted a brusque scan the area, but the it wouldn't turn on. The child continued to chatter at him as he tinkered with the controls, apparently un-fazed by Spock's obvious disinterest. Spock estimated from his flimsy frame and weak appearance that even if aggravated, he did not posses the strength to come after him up the tree and deal any serious damage, so he was quite safe being rude.

"...anyway, so that's why I was completely coincidentally riding by when you apparated. It's so cool to see a real-live alien!" the boy chattered, squinting up at him admiringly. "You okay up there?"

Spock glanced down at him. He had a gruesomely-freckled nose and comfortingly dull brown hair.

"Apparate?" Spock asked, adjusting the knobs on his tri-corder.

"Sorry, I tend to use Harry Potter terms when I'm excited. I get my lunch money stolen a lot because of that, too. And because I don't have any underarm hair yet. I'm sixteen years old."

Spock felt one of his eyebrows lift.

"What do you call your planet?"

"Earth. This is Bolton, Massachusetts, year 2009." said the boy, rubbing his nose. He was wearing a very generic t-shirt and very boring pants. They were a bit high-waisted, Spock noted, similar to the ones Kirk used to wear, although the date that this design was popular had expired some twenty years ago. He looked around at the planet, observing the low, concrete buildings and primitive asphalt road. The dominant plant life was a crude strain of grass and appeared to be cropped short manually. An automobile zoomed by, rustling the leaves of the tree and making a few more ants fall on his head.

"That's my school, right there," the boy said, pointing at the large concrete building behind him. "I'm a Freshman here at Nashoba. And over there, across the street, is Classic Pizza III." the boy pointed to a small, square building with large windows opposite of the school. The parking lot was deserted.

"Classic Pizza III? Where are the others?" Spock asked, buying time as he computed the best strategy for exiting the tree without the adoring boy-child following.

"No, there never were any, I think. They just named it that when they set up here. The pizza tastes...weird...there..." mused the boy. "I think the hormones in it are what's stopped my armpit hair from growing."

"Your hypothesis seems logical, although it cannot be verified until the chemicals are properly analyzed and a report is filed," Spock said sympathetically.

"The food there tastes weird."

The boy and the Vulcan stared across the street at the squat white building with twin shivers of horror. Spock looked down at the tri-corder for data, but it was out of power. He flipped it over and observed that Kirk had taken out the batteries and had been storing his partially-chewed gum in the battery slot. Spock sighed. First his phaser, now his tri-corder. He wondered how Kirk had ever managed to have been issued a Captaincy.

"Hey, is that chewing-gum? Can I have some?" asked the boy. Spock ignored him. Logically, being transported back in time to this remote location was the result of a serious error aboard the _Enterprise._ He would have to attempt contact to warn the rest of the crew_. _Spock took out his communicator.

"Spock to _Enterprise_," he said. "Come in, _Enterprise_." He swung himself down from the tree and landed beside the boy, who goggled at him.

"Spock to _Enterprise._ Can you read me," he paused to pinch a nerve on the boy's neck, rendering him unconscious. "_Enterprise?"_


	3. Chapter 3

_At the same time, about 1000 light-years away..._

"What a gay statue," said Kirk, looking at the statue. It was on a pedestal behind a metal mesh screen in Spock's quarters. He didn't like it. It looked like a weird looking demon with armor on. "That sword is a totally obvious phallic symbol."

Bored, he moved on. Spock's quarters were kind of dull. There weren't any interesting Playboy calendars or funny comic books like in _his_ cabin. Just stupid boring antique Vulcan relics. Anyone who collected antiques was obviously gay. He felt a shiver of anxiety, hoping gayness wasn't contagious.

"Hey, where's the lily-watering station?" he wondered, looking around. There were no doors and the only furniture was standard Starfleet issue. "Where does he go when he has to go wee in the night? What does he do when he drinks too much and has to throw up til the wee hours of the morning?"

Kirk often had to go wee late at night because he had an enlarged prostate. Kirk didn't mind, because prostates had something to do with his nether regions and anything that involved enlarging and nether regions was fine by him. McCoy told him he was going to end up in diapers someday if he didn't take his medicine but Kirk didn't believe him. McCoy wanted to shrink his prostate because he was just jealous and because Kirk once slept with his wife. He wondered if she had noticed his enlarged prostate. He also wasn't worried because he loved his prostate just the way it was, like he loved all parts of himself. Kirk ambled over the bed in search of Spock's diary. It reminded him of his own, except that Kirk's sheets were twisted into a filthy nest because he often ate barbecued ribs in bed.

"There's only one pillow on this bed..." he realized aloud, shocked. "That must be really uncomfortable when there's more than three women in there." Kirk stuck his foot under the bed and tried to tip it over.

"Whoa! And this bed is actually bolted to the floor, just like it says it has to be in regulations! How does he hide under there when the husbands of the married women he seduces burst in to give him a roughing up?" He bent down and measured it with his hands. "Hmm. Then again, he's pretty skinny. He could probably fit under there."

Kirk had just begun to go through Spock's underwear drawer when his communicator beeped, signaling he was wanted on the bridge. He hastily shoved his science officer's clothing back and hurried to the bridge. He would be back, and he would find that journal.

AT THE SAME TIME, JUST A FEW BLOCKS AWAY...

Two metal-heads sat on the steps in front of Classic Pizza III. They considered themselves quite the badasses, even though they were only fourteen years old. One of them had a gross-looking scattering of hair on his upper lip that was sticky with grape soda. The other had been wearing the same clothes for two weeks and was picking at crusted Alfredo sauce that was decorating the hem of his "Offspring of Bordom" shirt that he had bought at Hot Topic.

"You know, I don't smoke or do drugs not because I'm a chicken-shit faggot but because I am concerned about the health risks." said the slightly-mustachioed one. The crusty one nodded his greasy locks sympathetically.

"I understand your feelings but remain unmoved in my opinion of you being a chicken-shit faggot."

"I heard smoking weed makes your wang shrink."

"Really?" the other metalhead asked anxiously. "Shit!"

"Oh, no, I mean _real_ weed. Not weeds from the lawn."

"Oh. Good. Because my wang is really big and I wouldn't want it to be...uh...un-really big."

Mustachio didn't answer. He was staring at an alien that was pedaling awkwardly around in circles in front of the high school.


	4. Chapter 4

MEANWHILE

A flabby person was sitting in a lawn chair in front of the television, eating cereal and watching "Boston Legal."

ALSO MEANWHILE

Somebody shat in Ryan Seacrest's coffee.

AND AT THE SAME TIME, BACK ON THE ENTERPRISE

McCoy paced back and forth in Sickbay, puffing furiously on his bubble-pipe. He was wearing his Sherlock Holmes hat and was speaking in a ridiculous English accent.

"Dammit, how can I solve this mystery without any clues?" he grumbled, stroking his glue-on sideburns. Nurse Chapel walked in with a data-pad.

"Sir? Doctor, you have some medical releases to sign in your office-"

"Shut up, woman! Can't you see I'm ruminating?"

"Can't you ruminate and sign papers at the same time? These release forms are really starting to pile up..."

McCoy cocked one thinning eyebrow, Spock-style. He released his bubble-pipe with a click and did one of those hood-sistah head-bobs. Chapel backed off nervously. "On the other hand...I see you're busy...it can wait til later..."

"Damn right." McCoy snarled dramatically, and blew a gigantic bubble.

_Back on Earth, Sydney Lynton sits in front of Nashoba Regional Highschool, wondering if her life could get any worse_

"My entire life is a shamble," she said to herself, dropping her head into her hands. Nothing was going right in her life. Her whole house had burned down during a freak lightening storm that fried her CPU and erased her English paper. She had been in the shower during the sudden fire and had been forced to run outside in nothing but a half-melted shower curtain that freakishly fused to her body and she had been forced to go to school the next day with it still stuck to her. The other children pointed and laughed and a little piece of Sydney died inside. Also, she had to rewrite that English paper.

Sydney was the only kid left waiting to be picked up, except for Josh Sherman who sat behind her, reading a _House_ fan magazine and smacking his lips loudly every time he turned the page.

"Stop smacking every time you turn the page, Josh."

"I'm not. I'm smacking every time I see a hot picture of Thirteen."

"Well...stop."

Josh shrugged and turned the page. He smacked slowly, loudly, and ravishingly as his weird eyes with weird thick eyelashes fell upon another glossy page of _House_ goodness. It made a man feel good to be alive.

Sydney glared.

"I said stop!"

"What? I did!"

"No you're not! You're still smacking!"

Josh sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Oh my gosh, Sydney, I'm promise you I am not smacking when I see a picture of Cuddy or whenever I turn a page. I'm smacking every time I see Wilson looking repressed."

"But you're still smacking."

"Yes."

"Well, if you could not make any smacking noises at all, that'd be great."

"It would," agreed Josh. He finished reading the page and smacked again.

"Josh!!" she half-screamed in frustration.

"If it would make you feel better, I'm not smacking. I'm just experimenting with the suction abilities of my eating-hole."

Sydney dropped her head in her hands in surrender. Her life just could not get any weirder. She looked up again to plead with Josh and an alien with giant pointy ears, flared pants and high-heeled boots from the sixties rode past them on a children's bike. He was talking into a crappy flip-radio.

"_Enterprise. _Captain Kirk, do you read me?" she heard him say as he whizzed by. Josh stopped smacking.

"Sweet, an alien." he said. "Oh, my mom's here. Bye Sydney." he lumbered into a minivan and shut the door. Sydney resolved to kill herself the moment she got home.


	5. Chapter 5

_And on the bridge of the Enterprise....._

Sulu sat at the helm. He was a major slacker and hardly ever did anything. And he got away with it, too, because he was Asian and the white-eyed devils would never catch him.

"Chekov! Where are we?" asked Kirk, collapsing in his command chair. The freakishly unattractive Russian checked the nav board.

"We arwe curwently trwaveling at one-half impulse power towawd planet Eawth, Siw, as you owdewed."

"Excellent!" Kirk said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. "Hey, Yeoman Rand,

guess why we're going back to Vegas-I mean Earth?"

"Why, Sir?"

"So I can pick up some hookers, beat the shit out of them, and leave them on the roadside somewhere! Woof!" he said, and spanked her on the ass. Yeoman Rand rolled her eyes.

"Captain..." she said patronizingly. He began to spin around in the command chair.

"Finally! Free to be the real me, without Spock here to kill my libido. This is great!"

Everyone else worked diligently at the consoles, except, of course, for Sulu, who was playing Spider Solitaire.

"Sir, are you going to notify Starfleet of Spock's disappearance?" asked Uhura. Kirk spun slowly to face her.

"No."

"Oh. Why not?"

"Because the game is afoot!" yelled McCoy over the intercom.


End file.
